Bedlam Outtakes
by markovgirl
Summary: Pieces that didn't fit with the actual story, but I didn't think were worth wasting!


Thanks for all the reviews- please keep them coming!

Snow was beginning to fall again, Tom noticed, as he stepped outside the asylum. He waited in the doorway for his new ward to say her goodbyes, pulling up the sides of his coat collar to protect his face from the harsh wind that chafed his taut skin. He still didn't quite understand what his plan was to be, take her back to his vacation residence in Hogsmeade and then...what? Torture her for information? Let her starve? Enter her mind and then kill her? Whatever his decision, it would be undertaken with the utmost glee, the little bitch had already gotten under his skin. How did she know so much about him? Over the past month he had spent considerable amounts of time and effort trying to gain access to that information with little recompense - intimidation didn't work, kindness didn't seem to work. So what?

Turning to the door and checking his watch, a scowl stretched across his handsome features. Where was this girl? It only took a second to put her arms around that oafish Lance and she had no friends here, so what could possibly take this long?! He reached into his coat pocket to retrieve his wand and gently waved a simple pattern into the air. Immediately the atmosphere around him began to warm, the spell sheltering him from the bitter frost of the winter evening. He smiled down at his wand, a genuine smile that reached his eyes - Tom only truly loved one thing, and that was his magic. It made him feel whole, powerful, unyielding. Better than the rest. As his fingers flexed around the pale wood, a thought crossed his mind that turned his smile into a smirk. _She was getting a block, of course. _A block put on her magic, limiting her to simple spells, first year stuff. His smirk grew wider, eyes darkening - this would keep her under his influence for as long as he wanted. But the original problem was still there, how should he approach her? Violence and threats could only take him so far before he completely lost his temper and ripped her guts out through her mouth. That wouldn't serve him well at all.

He breathed out into the air, leaning back against the doorway, closing his eyes. The last time he had seen Hermione before today was during her bought of treatment. His eyebrow quirked - she had finally broken down after the assaulting magic couldn't be tolerated any longer and she -

She had screamed his name as she came. Alright, she had been trying to get the orderlies to halt his magic, protested against him and was caught in the throes, but, still - _she had cried out HIS name. _More importantly, she had cried out his name whilst maintaining eye contact with Tom. The thought of it all; that broken sound, that sheen across her face, the way her hospital gown rode up her thighs as she thrashed under the crackling power of _his _magic...it made him want more. More screams, more sweat, more skin-

Tom ran his hands through his hair and gripped his wand tighter, a slight blush settling over his high cheekbones. Perhaps seduction was the route he should take? Gaining her trust would be hard, but with it, so many opportunities could open up. Perhaps she would willingly tell him everything? Perhaps she would tell him whilst writhing and coming on his bed covers?

With an evil grin, Tom turned back to the door upon hearing light footsteps. Whatever his plans, he intended to have fun with this.

Hermione reached the doorway at last, fuming beyond belief. A block? On HER magic? If anyone needing blocking it was that suave looking git ahead of her. Lance's words rang still in her mind:

"_Hermione, you must be reasonable. We can't let you run around with magic as powerful as yours upon transfer. Think of the danger you could pose to others - especially Mr Riddle! As caring as he is, I don't think he would appreciate having his arm torn off in one of your fits of rage. Not at all! Now, we shall restore your magic bit by bit as our monthly check-ups go, until we see fit to release you for good. Your mind is so powerful Hermione, please be careful when we do."_

Her face turned an unattractive shade of crimson. Be careful indeed. Though Lance was right to an extent - she would have ripped off more than Riddle's arms given the chance. So, why was he taking her into his care? She had to presume that 'care' translated to 'captivity and torture' in Parseltongue. Sighing deeply, the girl wrapped the coat she had been given tightly around her body and stepped out into the darkness of the evening. As soon as she saw the environment around them, she knew where they were. The site was around three miles outside of Hogsmeade and in her time, it had housed a museum of sorts. She had always meant to visit it, but never gotten around to it - why was that? Even Ron and Harry had spoken about the museum before, laughing at the bizarre contents and trying to tell her about it. But she had just shut them up viciously before turning back to her books. Why had she done that? Why couldn't she just have fun like everyone else - was the success, the recognition, the power really worth the loneliness? Shuddering in the cold air, she rid her mind of the thoughts. It did her no good now. She was resigned to the fact that the past, no - _the future _was no longer open to her. All she had now was this world, this bizarre place she knew little about, filled with people she knew very vaguely from her history books. _Remain. Blank. _

A small smile formed around her lips as she noted the snowflakes falling slowly, but thickly, in the winter air. A white layer of snow had already formed upon the ground, causing a startling light glow to be emitted. Hermione breathed deeply, taking in the stark, cold air and watching her warm breath swirl away from her like the first puffs of a Patronus. It was comforting, in a way.

"Took you long enough. Let's go before it becomes morning," an irritated voice beside her piped up. Hermione turned slightly, to see Riddle's pale face above her. And of course, there was him. What to do about Tom Marvolo Riddle. Hermione furrowed her brow and observed him passively. He really was something to behold: soft, white, touchable skin, black hair that just begged to have hands clutching at it, features that an angel would sin for. She almost let out a laugh at the stark contrast between his outward and inward appearances. _Beautiful sodding monster. _"Stop goggling at me, let's go."

"I didn't ask to be taken into your 'care', Riddle. And I am not goggling!" she shot back, eyes narrowing at him. His mirrored hers in their hatred. Instead of retorting, Tom took her upper arm in his hand and he pulled her towards the steps that led away from the institute. Looking back at the grey building, Hermione felt a strange sense of loss, mingled with relief. She was back in the wizarding world, but her magic had been dwindled down to near-nothingness and she was with this conceited murderous prick. Joy of joys. The journey to Hogsmeade was only a couple of miles, but as soon as they reached the bottom of the steps, the snow became far thicker and troublesome. Hermione was only wearing the thin, white plimsolls that had been given to her in the asylum - in fact, she had no idea where her trusty desert boots had gone too, or for that matter, the rest of her clothes, though she presumed that they were in the satchel Tom had slung across his body. The snow immediately seeped through her shoes and began to gnaw at the skin of her feet. They were headed down a cobbled country back lane with wooden fences and hedges underlining picturesque scenery that carried on for miles. Everything seemed to be covered in the dense layer of snow, and there was a thick mist that hung around the hills in the distance, it all made everything look, well - magical. But it wasn't half _painful._The girl merely winced at first, but after a mile or so, she wrenched her arm from Tom's grip and moved towards a bench at the side of the pavement. Riddle turned round incredulously to glare at her, thinking she was trying to make her escape. But no, Hermione merely wiped the snow off the seat of the bench and sat down to nurse her throbbing feet. Tom raised an eyebrow and moved towards her.

"Don't you have any proper shoes? It's Winter," he asked, dismissively.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I didn't know it was Winter, did I, idiot?"

"It's been snowing all month - it's December."

Tom narrowed his eyes at her. She really must be mad if she hadn't noticed the snow piling up around her for the past month.

"Oh. Well, I-" she began, trying to think of an excuse. Instead, she diverted the topic. "Can I have my wand?" She sighed as Tom raised his eyebrows again. "I'm not going to curse you, I just want to warm up and protect my feet."

Tom chuckled as he reached into his satchel and threw the wand at her. "It's not like you could if you tried."

Hermione ignored his jibe and began casting her limited spells over her feet. A delightful warmness spread up her legs at last, and she smiled blissfully. If there was one thing she hated, it was cold feet. "Why didn't we just apparate to Hogsmeade?" she questioned, tucking her wand into her pocket and getting back onto her feet. They began walking again, the snow now melting around her heated feet.

Tom turned to look at her. "Wards around Hogsmeade," he said, in a monotone. "Which reminds me, how did you manage to get through them?"

Hermione's face paled. "What do you mean? I didn't apparate into Hogsmeade."

"I saw you, you appeared from nowhere and fell to to ground right before you attack me."

"You must have been seeing things. Sure you don't need your head checked, Tom?" she snorted, trying to appear nonchalant.

"You know if you keep lying to me, I'm going to curse you to dust," Tom said, in a sickeningly sweet tone. Hermione laughed lightly.

"It's not like you could if you tried."

They arrived at his apartment within the hour, the journey taking longer than anticipated due to the snow. Tom check his watch: _8.30pm. _And boy, was he hungry. He peered down at the bushy haired creature who was shivering slightly at his side, noticing she had moved closer to him to block the wind. _Little liar. _He stopped at the grey door that was placed in-between two different bookshops, holding onto Hermione's upper arm to stop her bolting at the last minute. He placed his other hand against the middle of the wooden door, uttering a spell under his breath. Hermione's eyes widened as Tom's hand began to sink through the solid wood, as if it had turned to water at his touch. The boy noticed her stare and rolled his eyes.

"It keeps people out that I don't want in," he muttered, moving her forward and pushing her through the entrance to his quarters. A small flight of stairs led up, opening onto a much larger living space. It was plainly coloured in creams, blacks and greens - _how utterly Slytherin of you, Tom - _two armchairs sat in front of an unlit fireplace in one corner, surrounded by a number of bookcases, a kitchenette was placed in another. The back wall held three doors - one was open and revealed a similarly decorated master bedroom, Hermione presumed the other was a guest room and a bathroom. All in all - too nice for a Hogwarts student to afford for his holiday residence. Far too nice for an orphan boy like Tom.

"How did you come by this place? It's very...big," she muttered, shrugging off her coat at Tom's silent request. He took the garment and hung it upon the back of the door, letting out a snort.

"I was left it," he replied, pushing her further into the room. He turned quickly and cast a number of locking spells at the door, along with a silencing charm that blocked the world around them from hearing anything that might happen in the apartment. His admission was partially true - he had been _left _it, after obliviating the previous owner to such an extent that they were now leading a muggle life on the streets of London. No-one knew the old codger who had lived here, and it was a prime location - right near his school, above two extremely useful bookshops and easy to access for all his followers. His actions may have seemed drastic, but he would _not _go back to that orphanage. Ever.

Now it was Hermione's turn to snort. "Sure, I bet the previous occupant is still under the floorboards. Can't you hear the beating of his tell-tale hea-" Before she could finish, a harsh crack resounded across the room and a jinx was sent spinning towards her. Before she could move, the spell hit her chest and sent her flying backwards into one of the armchairs. She groaned loudly as her head collided with the piece of furniture, thankful only for its leather padding that had absorbed some of the impact. She glared up at Tom, hand rubbing the back of her head.

"What the hell was that for?" she shouted, angrily, getting to her feet. Another curse crashed into her and flung her to the floor on the other side of the room. She let out a cry as the fall winded her, causing her words to come out in pants. "W-what...T-tom..."

Tom walked towards her, smirk set firmly into place, his wand tapping against the palm of his opposite hand. "You're in my house now, Hermione," he said, quietly, crouching down to look at her. He grasped her chin firmly in his hand and forced her gaze upwards. He liked that she was still struggling to breathe. "So, you'll do what I say, alright?" He flashed her a smile, noticing how she winced at the action. This confused him slightly - wasn't he irresistible? Women had never been able to ignore his charms before, but this one just seemed angry, or terrified of him. Confusing creature to say the least, and definitely a misbehaving one. Her eyes were so wide, reddening around the edges as if she didn't want him to see her cry. _Don't hold back. Cry. I want to hear you cry again. _

Tom stroked his hand along her jaw and watched her shudder with glee. "Will you do what I say, Hermione?"

The frightened girl remained stone still, her eyes glazing over as she looked at him. Slowly, Tom moved the hand holding her up and down, forcing her into a comical nod. "Yes Tom, I will do whatever you say," he mocked, a cruel laugh forming behind his lips. He leant forwards, lips almost brushing her ear and whispered, "Good girl."

He stood back to his full height, smiling at her twitching on the floor below him. _Where she deserved to be. _

He turned, strolling happily over to the kitchenette where he started to prepare a large pot of tea. With one flick of his wand, the stove lit, the kettle flew to the sink to collect water, then to the hob to begin boiling. Tom leant back against the side of the worktop, hand reaching out to the fruit bowl on the small kitchen table to remove a shiny red apple. He bit down into the flesh, still staring at the girl crumpled on the floor. It seemed she had gotten over her little shock and was now attempting to get to her feet, ignoring his gaze. Her limbs occasionally flinched - his throws must have hurt her. _Poor darling._ She turned to look at him as she got to her feet, leaning against a bookcase for support.

"You know, I'm not going to tell you anything, so you might as well just kill me, Riddle," she sighed. Her voice was..resigned? How could anyone just resign themselves to death? What an idiotic girl - of course he wouldn't kill her!

"Dead men tell no tales, Hermione. I want tales," he stated, calmly.

Hermione pursed her lips and folded her arms, wincing slightly as she brushed a newly forming cruise on her elbow. "Riddle, Voldemort, _Tom - _whoever you are. I'm not telling any of you. I don't have anything to tell y-"

"Liar."

"Whatever."

Tom raised an eyebrow, smirk settling on one corner of his mouth. "Are you getting hysterical, Hermione?"

Hermione blinked at him, unsure of his words. "No, I'm j-"

Tom pushed himself off the worktop and stalked closer to her, eyes darkening. "Because we don't want you getting hysterical again. I mean, look at how last time turned out."

The girl froze at first, only her hands still shook a little. What was he thinking? This had all gone on long enough - she needed to incapacitate Riddle, ideally kill the bastard, and get out of this place. There would be no record of her in any database, she could get clean away, start somewhere new and-

She was pulled out of her thoughts by his fingers touching her cheek, jumping at the contact. Immediately she began to lash out, punching and kicking whatever she could, hoping that one of them might hit him. Luckily, her left leg aimed true and caught his shin in a harsh kick, causing him to emit a loan growl of pain and stumble backwards. Hermione took off in a run towards the kitchenette - _need a knife, need a weapon, need something. _She barely made it two steps before Tom grabbed the back of her dress and pulled her back into him. He clenched around her wrists, pulling them behind her back and holding them tightly in one hand, long fingers easily subduing her struggles. The other hand raked into her hair, pulling it tightly in a vice-like grip and forcing her to hold still. She cried out at the pain in her scalp, but did not stop trying to kick her legs backwards, desperate to hurt him. But Tom held firm against her rather pathetic struggles, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of her squirming against him.

"Don't get hysterical Hermione!" he chimed in her ear, lips barely touching the back of her neck.

"I'm not fucking hysterical! Let me go, let me go!" she shouted, tears threatening to crawl from her eyes.

Riddle smirked, amused by her behaviour already. Well, he was going to enjoy her sooner than he thought. "I think we need to treat you," he whispered gently, his nose gently running down behind her ear. Suddenly, he leant forwards and bit down on the sensitive skin of her neck, causing her to cry out again. There it was! That sound! Tom was elated, on cloud nine - even if she told him nothing, she could certainly fulfill the position of plaything until she broke. Tom was never very careful with his toys. As she kicked backwards against the same spot as before, he scowled and moved his hand from her hair to settled around her throat. His long fingers easily enveloped her neck and he began to squeeze down, ruthlessly hard.

Hermione struggled away from him, angrily trying to wriggle out of his grip, breathing becoming more laboured than before. This was not happening, Voldemort - _Voldemort _of all people, was, was...what was he trying to do? "What are you going to do?" she whispered, hoarsely. Tom remained silent, allowing her to suffocate for _just a little longer_ before removing himself entirely and letting her fall to the ground. He walked around her quickly and immediately hauled her up by the collar.

"I'm going to cure you of your hysteria, Hermione. Aren't I kind?" he smiled at her, sweetness lacing his tone. With that, he dragged the screeching girl towards his bedroom, throwing her down onto the bed and shutting the door behind him. "Oh! One moment, Hermione," he said, brightly, quickly opening the door again and point his wand at the stove, a gust of wind blowing the fire out. "Wouldn't want to spoil my tea."

Hermione grimaced, poised to fight if he came near her again. This would not happen, she wouldn't allow it - if only her damn wand wasn't still in her coat, she might at least be able to do something. _Oh what, warm his feet to death? _Grimly, she clambered onto her knees and raised her fists in front of her. "Well, don't blame me if your sodding Earl Grey over-brews," she hissed.

Tom laughed at her pose. "My my, aren't we a brave little thing?" he cooed, softly. Very slowly, he raised his wand, wordlessly casting the same spell as he had only two days before. "I'm not going to hurt you, Hermione," he said, smile turning predatory as he noticed her legs begin to twitch.

Almost immediately the familiar sensation became apparent to Hermione, who glared up at Tom with hate in her eyes. "Stop this, right now."

"Tell me how you know that name."

"Never."

"Then I'd better take a seat," he smirked, sitting down in the armchair at the foot of his bed. He shrugged off his suit jacket and hung it gently over the side of the chair, looking so casual that she wanted to crack his skull open. As she tried to move towards him, the intensity of the feeling in her stomach began to grow and she fell backwards at the power. _Oh god. No, no, no._

Her clitoris began burning with pleasure, it felt as if someone were rubbing it ever so slowly, round and round, causing her to grow aroused and wet at the feeling. A small gasp left her lips as Tom pulled his chair right to the edge of the bed, eyes wandering up and down her shaking body with a lecherous grin plastered on his face. "Enjoying yourself?" he asked, running a finger down the inside of her forearm.

"Fuck you," she hissed through gritted teeth. His touch sent her mind reeling - she gathered his proximity caused the feelings to intensify a great deal and his contact sent every nerve ending at the soft crux of her elbow to go wild with excitement.

"Not such a good girl are we?" he chided, laughter behind his words. Sick bastard was enjoying this. She supposed any kind of torture would satisfy Tom's bizarre needs. Her own face twisted into a grin.

"Do you have a torture fetish or something, Riddle? Hiding some weird kinks, I bet!" she spat out, trying desperately to ignore his presence. His eyes went blank for a moment before sparkling again with that fierce intensity. The circling of her clitoris became unbearably slow, the invisible fingers seeming taking their time to edge the poor girl to orgasm. Her mind was wild with pleasure, agonizing, slow pleasure...

"Oh god!" she cried out, her hips bucking upwards. She needed more of that touch, the anticipation, this denial was infuriating! "P-please-"

Tom looked down at her. "Please? Please what?" he smiled widely. This was exactly what he wanted. Submission. Torture fetish, indeed! No, if anything he just wanted to be the Master, that was clear enough from his other life ventures; school, magic, sex, the Knights...

He turned up the power again and watched happily as Hermione writhed as the invisible force began stroking her rapidly. God, he wanted to fuck her. But, he knew that would have to wait. This little outburst of no control would surely cost him the gain of her trust for a while, nothing he couldn't fix, of course, but still...he could barely keep his eyes off her. He craved that submission he saw in the treatment room.

"P-please, touch me aga-" she mumbled. Well, that was a surprise to him. He had expected her just to beg for release, or for him to 'fuck off' as she so politely put it, not for his touch. This was easier than he had ever imagined. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his white shirt and began to roll up his sleeves, watching her as she looked up at him with desperate eyes and her hands balled up into tight fists around the duvet.

"Touch you where?" he asked, quietly.

"An-anywhere!" she cried out, as another wave of pleasure was sent viciously fast over her clit. She squeezed her eyes together tightly and her mouth began to hang open as the sensations continued - yet she still could not reach climax - it was _infuriating! _Tom gently placed his hand on her leg, his own arousal growing as she writhed painfully under his touch. He continued his burning trail up her leg, stopping only momentarily to shred her clothes to pieces with a quick _Diffindo! _His eyes widened, taking in her naked form. God, she was soft. Hermione apparently, hadn't even noticed her now more vulnerable state from her high state of mind - all she wanted was touch. She had missed touch, missed fondness and affection and yes, sex. His hand finally reached her most intimate area and she could barely control the bucking and writhing of her body. It was unnatural to feel this electric, she had never had this during sex before -_ it must be the magic, of course it was the magic. Just don't think about him._ His other hand moved to her stomach hold her hips in place, keeping her from wriggling away from his almost painfully pleasurable touch. His fingers gently stroked the outer lips of her sex, before trailing up to join his invisible forces in assaulting her sensitive nub. As he pressed down softly, he relinquished his magic hold over her and smiled to himself. _Mine. All mine now._ He rubbed gently, slowly, still giving Hermione the same torment as his magic had done. Her mouth was uncontrollable, she was crying out indecipherable words and lustful groans that she would have been ashamed of had she been in her right mind.

"Oh god!" she moaned, pushing herself towards his hand desperately. The boy eagerly complied and continued rubbing her with his thumb, whilst two of his fingers moved lower, stroking her all the way down, before slipping into her folds and curling upwards inside of her. "Yes! Fuck!" she screamed as he continued the motion inside of her. Finally, she let out that much-desired cry, followed by a distorted, lustful groan that sounded mildly like _'Tom'. _

Just as she was on the brink of coming, he removed his hands, and took both her wrists in his hands, pressing the down into the bed. Hermione gazed up at him gobsmacked.

"W-what, b-but-" she began, moving her hips upwards slightly in protest.

Tom smirked down at her and kissed her lips gently, before letting go of her wrists. He raised his hand behind him and brought it down onto her sex, hard. She let out a screech in pain and her face flushed red when he brought his now sopping wet hand back to her face. He cupped her cheek gently, spreading her own juices around her face.

"You're in my house now Hermione. Will you do as I say?" he asked, softly, eyes promising her completion if she were just ready to comply.

The bitch just shook her head and let out a stuttered, "Go fuck yourself."


End file.
